I blink. “You’re talking about him like he’s—what? The town sheriff? Secretly running some underground watch group?”
She chuckles softly. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
But she only pats my arm.
“You’ll see,” she says.
I hate that answer. Almost as much as I hate how much I believe her.
The day stretches on.
People come and go. The coffee I’ve decided to keep out for customers runs low. Someone asks if I’ll host book clubs. Another asks about author signings. A teenager lingers fornearly twenty minutes debating between two fantasy novels before finally buying both.
Every moment feels like a small victory. Every smile, every purchase, every conversation?—
Proof that I didn’t make a mistake coming here. Still…
Every time the door opens, I glance up. Not with excitement. With anticipation. Because Archer does. Because he notices every single person who walks in. And now?—
So do I.
By the time the last customer leaves on my first full day, my feet ache and my voice is hoarse. Delilah helps me stack empty cups and gather stray flyers.
“You should be proud,” she says.
“I am,” I admit. “I just didn’t expect it to matter this much.”
“It always matters this much,” she replies softly. “When you build something real.”
I glance at the door. Archer is gone. I didn’t see him leave. A strange, hollow feeling settles in my chest.
“That one’s trouble,” Delilah adds casually.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
She nods toward the door. “Archer.”
“I figured that much out on my own.”
“Not that kind of trouble,” she says. “The kind that changes things.”
I let out a breath. “Yeah. I’m getting that impression.”
She studies me, something knowing in her gaze. “Just be careful what you let him change.”
Before I can respond, she slips out into the dusk, leaving me alone in the quiet aftermath.
I take my time closing up. Not because I have to. Because I don’t want the day to end. I straighten stacks that don’t need straightening. Adjust displays that are already perfect. Run myfingers along the spines of books like I’m grounding myself in something solid.
“This is mine,” I whisper again.
The words feel stronger this time. More real. I move to the front, flipping the sign to CLOSED, and glance out at the street. It’s mostly empty now. A few cars. A couple walking hand in hand under the streetlights. Peaceful. Normal. I reach for the light switch?—
And pause. Something feels… off. Not wrong. Just?—
Different. Like the air has shifted. I step closer to the window, my reflection staring back at me for a moment before my eyes adjust to the darkness beyond. That’s when I see him. Across the street. Standing perfectly still. Watching.The same figure from last night.
